It's smack, pot or crack,
Or shot of rot-gut.
When you want change your mood,
With a little toxication.
Now what you get is drug abuse,
And that drink of rot-gut juice,
You can not own; must rent its use.
One more shot down for recreation.

You can be Peter Pan,
With some pot, fun is at hand. (Pot-Fun)

Some swig gin is cheap,
Causes speech disorder.
But get down to hard smack numb,
Soon you can't afforder.
You're in a full fog flout,
As your head gets loggin' out,
You're gonna die from this dark ride,
Jim Beam®; You're three sheets,
This ain't wise; hadn't oughter! (Oh no - oh oh no)

You can't walk, crawl or stand,
When marijuana countermands.
Oh, no, no, no, no!

Down for count; You're in rapture,
With your Zigzag® papers.
Then you go and get all banged on smack,
All mashed pataters.
So weak and feeble, then you seize,
As you shout, claw and you sneeze,
It's how you roll; You're out of gear,
Out on Hell's half acre.

You know. you know, you're all clocked in the can,
It's the shock son, you can't stand.
The shock son, you can't stand. (Smack, pot or crack, yeah)
Smack, pot or crack or a shot son.
Yeah smack, pot and crack and some shots son.
Oh, smack, pot or crack, yeah. (Smack, pot or crack, yeah)
Stockin' out smack, pot and crack, yeah. (oooh with rot-gut shots done)
Tokin' up some crack, pot and smack, now.
Tokin' up crack, do it shot-gun.
Shootin' up smack,
Tokin' up crack,
Smack, pot or crack, yeah!